My True Love Gave to Me
by eurydice25
Summary: A Christmas story. Ron shows Harry the true meaning of a relationship. *slash*


Title: My True Love Gave to Me  
  
Author: Piper Mackenzie (eurydice2584@yahoo.com)  
  
Summary: A Christmas story. Ron shows Harry the true meaning of a relationship.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Warning: SLASH  
  
Disclaimer: I am but a poor, lowly college student to whom nothing of the world of Harry Potter belongs. I am making no money off of my work. It is all J.K. Rowling's creation.  
  
Category: Romance, Angst  
  
Notes: What can I say? The sap from my Christmas tree had to go somewhere, didn't it? First off, I would like to point out that this is probably not the strongest story I've ever written but, well, my dorm room is decidedly lacking in holiday spirit and I needed to do something to cheer myself up. Which, I suspect, will seem like a strange statement once you get a couple of paragraphs in but believe me, this story does have its sappy moments. Oh well. I tried. Anyway, there are some musical inspirations that I feel the need to cite. The first is the most annoying Christmas song ever written (in my opinion), "The Twelve Days of Christmas" from which I got the title. The second is a much better seasonal song (especially the version sung by the Eurythmics), "Winter Wonderland," particularly the line "we'll face unafraid the plans that we made walking in a winter wonderland." And last, a Sarah McLachlan song entitled "Fear" which was the main inspiration for the plot (run away!). Also, I apologize for any faux pas I've made both in the Harry Potter context and the cultural one. Feel free to point and laugh so long as you send me a (polite) e-mail afterwards to shed light on the mistakes I've made.  
  
Ah yes, it just wouldn't be one of my stories if the notes weren't a mile long. Anyway, enjoy!  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
If there were any right words to say when I walked in my flat that night and found him sitting casually in his favorite armchair after a month long absence, I didn't know what they were. Instead, I could do nothing but stand in the middle of the room and sputter as coherent words tried to find a suitable translation on my tongue, not knowing how to convey the thousand different emotions I was feeling at having one of my dearest wishes fulfilled. Part of me wanted to fly off the handle completely, screaming and shouting and telling him exactly what I thought of him for leaving so abruptly on Christmas morning of all mornings. Another part wanted to fall at his feet, sobbing in joy and begging him to never do this to me again, apologizing for whatever it was I had done. Apparently he didn't know what to say either, for he just sat there, the picture of misery and stared at me while I openly gaped.  
  
"What are you doing here?" I finally managed after about five minutes of this, then flinched at the hostility I heard in my own voice. Great, as soon as I got him back, I was going to chase him away again. But then, maybe he deserved it.  
  
"I, uh, wanted to return these to you," he said, standing and digging in the pocket of the pants he wore, extracting a key ring and holding them out to me. I took them absently, realizing they were his keys to the flat.  
  
"That explains how you got in, at least," I said, hefting them in my hand. They were warm from having been in his pocket. After a moment, I held them out to him but he only shook his head, refusing to take them back.  
  
"No," he said.  
  
We stood in awkward silence for another moment, struggling to find words to say to each other. I remembered suddenly back to the one time this had happened in my own family. We had been going through a hard time financially (harder than usual) back when I was about six years old and an uncharacteristic strain had been put on my parents' marriage. They had argued and my father had left. I tried to think of what my mother had done when he had arrived back on our doorstep, begging forgiveness. I seemed to remember a lot of kissing and hugging and teary apologies, none of which seemed possible in my own situation. First, because my father had been gone for only a day and Harry had been gone a whole month. Second, because Harry didn't seem to be about to beg forgiveness.  
  
"Is that it?" I finally asked, tossing the keys on a nearby coffee table. He flinched at the sound of it.  
  
"Actually, I wanted to.It's just that.I thought I owed you some explanations," he said. "If you'd be willing to listen."  
  
"Did you really think I was going to let you leave if I didn't get at least some answers?" I said, gesturing for him to sit again.  
  
He sat and I took the seat next to him, waiting for him to begin. He didn't seem like he was about to, so after a few minutes, I decided to take the reins.  
  
"Is there someone else?" I asked.  
  
I didn't ask it because I had any reason to suspect that there would be. Harry and I had been together for nearly five years and I had been forced to spend a good amount of time before that trying to convince him to take our friendship to the next level. In other words, Harry wasn't easily seduced and his mood when someone was attempting to do just this tended to plummet, so there was no way I could have missed it if someone was trying to take him away from me. Even less likely was the idea that he was the one doing the seducing. So I was pretty secure in what the answer to this question would be and only asked it because I knew it was one of the few questions I would get the opportunity to ask that night that would get me an answer I liked.  
  
"No," he said simply. "No, it wasn't anything like that."  
  
"Then what was it?" I asked. "Throw me a bone here, Harry because I've been over this in my mind an obscene number of times and I just can't figure it out. From my point of view, things were going great between us. Am I really that blind? Were you that unhappy?"  
  
He hesitated before nodding a little. "Yes," he said. "I was that unhappy."  
  
The pain in his voice matched the one I felt in my heart when he said it.  
  
"But it wasn't because of anything you did," he added quickly. "It was because of me."  
  
"I don't understand," I said, my voice heavy and subdued.  
  
"Neither do I," he said. "Oh, Ron, there was just something about what happened that night that just.I can't describe it." He buried his face in his hands in obvious frustration.  
  
"You mean the Christmas Eve party at my parents?" I said in an attempt to help him along, having known that things would somehow have boiled down to what had happened that night. It was a tradition for my family (and a few friends) to get together and celebrate the season before the commencement of the following day's orgy of greed. The one we had had this past year had been the last time I had seen Harry before this moment and so I often dwelled on it. At the time, he had seemed perfectly content indulging in the Christmas cheer with us-talking, laughing, eating, playing, singing-but in retrospect I saw that there had been something off about him the whole time. His laughter was hollow and his singing strained and more off-key than usual. It was like he had been forcing himself to have an enjoyable time when he really wanted nothing more than to curl up in a dark corner and hide there until the festivities were over.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "I think that party just confirmed so many things to me that I've had in the back of my mind for a long time."  
  
"Like what?" I asked.  
  
"I saw you that night with your family," he said. "Playing with Charlie's children and the look on your face when Bill and his wife announced that they were going to have a baby. You looked so happy. Like there was nothing in the world that gave you more pleasure than being with your huge family and the idea that it was going to get even more enormous and I began to think about how it's.well, physically impossible for us to make our own contribution to the size of your family. How I'll never be able to give you that thing that you've always dreamed of and talked about since we were teenagers. The thing that'll make you most happy in the world."  
  
"Harry," I started but he interrupted.  
  
"I'm not finished," he said. "And I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that having a large family of your own doesn't matter to you as much as I do. And that's what's really bothering me. I feel like in this relationship that we have, I do an enormous amount of taking and you're the one making all the sacrifices. It's always been that way, even when we were just friends and it just doesn't work anymore. I've become a parasite and I hate that. But what I hate more is that I can't fix it. I've been trying to for a while now, though unconsciously. But I haven't had any success and I realized that night that it's because I have nothing to give. I have nothing to offer you in return for all that you've done for me. I can't give birth to your children and I can't give back what I've already taken."  
  
I would have laughed at the silliness of what he had just said if the moment hadn't been so serious.  
  
"And the only way I can stop this pattern is to stay away from you," he continued, looking at his hands. "And I'm willing to do that because I love you and I don't want to see you get hurt because of me. I'm horrified at the idea that you'll wake up one morning and realize that you've wasted so many years on someone who doesn't hold up his end of the bargain. That you'll realize that you're in a relationship that just isn't worth it."  
  
"But it is worth it," I finally interrupted as he stopped to take a breath. "It's always been worth it to me, Harry. Why do you think I've been with you this long?"  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"Because I love you, you idiot," I said, slapping him on the arm almost playfully. "And you love me back and that's all I need from you, really. Yes, I always used to say I wanted to have a large family but I also used to say that I wanted to be the king of England. Things change, Harry."  
  
He half-smiled at this. "But the way your eyes lit up."  
  
"My eyes lit up like that because I love my nieces and nephews with all my heart," I said. "But between you and me, the nicest thing about having nieces and nephews instead of children of my own is that I can hand them over to someone else when they start getting cranky and stop being fun."  
  
That actually made him chuckle and I had to smile at the sound of it, though it was a sound made more out of sadness than mirth.  
  
"Listen," I said, putting a hand on his knee. He looked up into my eyes as I leaned forward a little, "I have something for you. Let me go and get it. I'll be right back."  
  
He nodded, a little surprised at the sudden change in subject. I rose from my chair and went over to the cupboard in the front hall, turning on the light and wading through the massive amounts of junk we had been able to fit in there since moving in. I was looking for a particular spot near the back left corner where I had carefully concealed Harry's Christmas stocking and other presents, knowing how much he loved to snoop around the place, looking to ruin his own surprise. Finding the pile I had made, I ignored the single large box and two slightly smaller ones that went with it in favor of the stocking. With that in had, I ventured back out of the closet and walked into the sitting room, glad to see that he hadn't escaped while I was in there.  
  
I sat back down in my chair and placed the stocking on his lap.  
  
"You kind of left before I could give you this," I said.  
  
He only looked at me, utterly confused.  
  
"Well?" I said. "Go on." I gestured for him to begin digging through it.  
  
Looking distinctly uncomfortable, he pulled out each of the small gifts on top with indifference, placing them on the small table that separated us after politely examining each one-a few pairs of socks (one with reindeer and bells on it), three nice new quills on the more expensive side as far as quills go and a box of push pins (he was always complaining that he never had any, never thinking to use magic to stick something to a wall).  
  
The first present to get a reaction from him wasn't until about halfway through the stocking.  
  
"A slinky," he said in wonder, taking the mini, plastic version of the large metal toy out of its box right away and beginning to play with it. "Where did you find this?"  
  
"A muggle toy store," I said. "Remember the time my dad found one and made you spend an entire afternoon showing him what it was used for?"  
  
He nodded with a smile. "He was awfully impressed that it could go down the stairs, but a little disappointed that it couldn't come back up, if I recall," he said.  
  
"Right," I said. "Anyway, I remembered you telling a story about the one your aunt and uncle gave you after your cousin broke it and how you fixed it and played with it when they weren't watching. So I thought I'd find one for you."  
  
He chuckled, setting the colourful slinky aside.  
  
"Thank you," he murmured, digging now a little more enthusiastically. The next couple of items were the standard candy that are generally associated with stocking stuffers-Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and Chocolate Frogs. He gave me a look as he pulled out his third Chocolate Frog. "Why do I get the feeling the candy in here isn't so much for me as it is for you?" he asked.  
  
"Not sure," I said, smiling. "It could have something do with the fact that you don't eat Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans since you got that sewage flavored one back in seventh year."  
  
"Oh, that could be it," he said, smiling openly now.  
  
It was an odd moment between us, I have to admit. It felt like the month that he had been gone had never existed. Like time had rewound itself and now we were back on Christmas morning and Harry hadn't left and things had no reason to be awkward between us. He pulled out the next few stocking stuffers with enthusiasm and embarrassment that only someone who hadn't gotten any Christmas presents as a kid could have. The traditions were still so new to him and I loved watching him. But then my gaze wandered over to where his keys to the flat still lay on the coffee table and I was brought back to the present. The previous month hadn't disappeared and I was still angry.  
  
Or was I?  
  
A while later, Harry sat back, surveying his pile of small treasures with an amused smile on his face.  
  
"Thank you," he said. Then his smile melted and he became solemn once more. "You didn't have to do that."  
  
"It's tradition," I said with a shrug. "Besides, there's still something left in there." I gestured to the small lump in the heel of the stocking.  
  
Confused, he reached all the way in and retrieved the last item, pulling it out before he realized what it was.  
  
And immediately dropping it on the floor when the realization came to him.  
  
"Hey," I said, "that was a little on the expensive side, if you don't mind." I leaned over and picked the small velvet box off the ground, opening it to reveal the manliest engagement ring I could find (and there aren't too many manly engagement rings, if I may say so) and holding it out to him. He only stared at it in awe mixed with a little anger and the ultimate embarrassment. "My mum cried when I told her I was going to propose. She insisted on helping me pick out the ring. To think, my biggest worry Christmas Eve night was whether or not it would fit!"  
  
I meant it to be funny but he wasn't laughing.  
  
"You weren't worried that I'd say no?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at me a little.  
  
"No," I said. "I didn't think I had any reason to worry. Apparently I'm even less perceptive than Snape always thought."  
  
He did smile a little then. "Could we please not bring up Snape when you're holding out an engagement ring to me?" he said.  
  
"Right," I said. "It's a bit like talking about your parents when you're-"  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Sorry," I said, though I wasn't. I was actually laughing. "Would you have said no, Harry? If I asked you last month?"  
  
The smile faded from his face and he took some time to think this over. "I don't know," he finally said.  
  
I had to admire his honesty.  
  
"Well, then, let me tell you something," I said. "If you had been the one doing the proposing, I wouldn't have said no. Because I don't think our relationship is unequal at all. We're both making sacrifices and we're both taking risks. That's what a relationship is all about. And I really wouldn't have done the things I did if I didn't think it was worth it. You're worth it to me, Harry. In fact, you're more than worth it. I love you."  
  
He hid his face in his hands as I was giving this little speech and, though he made no sound, I could tell from the shaking of his shoulders that he was crying. I put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed soothingly. This was the first time since I had known him that I had ever made Harry cry. It wasn't a good feeling if only because I didn't know if his shedding tears was a good sign or a bad sign in this case.  
  
I decided to find out.  
  
I slid out of my chair and kneeled in front of him, prying his left hand from his face and holding it tightly in my own.  
  
"Harry Potter," I said, my own voice getting a little shaky, "will you marry me?"  
  
He wiped away the tears from his face in embarrassment. For a long minute, he just stared at me, seemingly a little lost for words.  
  
"You're right," I said after a long moment of silence, "we should start out with something simpler."  
  
I set down the ring and reached over to the coffee table, grabbing the key ring. I held it up to him and jangled the keys a little.  
  
"Harry Potter," I said, with mock seriousness, "will you at least come back to me? I know we can work this out."  
  
Another hesitation before he nodded slowly, holding out his hand for the keys. Smiling in happiness, I leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. He responded and when I pulled away, his eyes were filling with tears again. I reached up and wiped them away with my thumb.  
  
"Should I put the ring away until next Christmas?" I asked.  
  
He glanced down to where it sat on the floor next to me.  
  
"Well.," he said. "it's no good just laying around, is it?"  
  
I laughed and picked it up, slipping it confidently onto his ring finger. It was a perfect fit. I leaned over and kissed him again, this time a little harder.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Harry," I murmured, pulling away.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Ron," he replied.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Fin 


End file.
